


And a very Happy Birthday to You.

by witchofhearts



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Sadstuck, sadstuck kind of i guess, yea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofhearts/pseuds/witchofhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his 11th birthday, Dirk Strider gets a video message from his brother. And then another one. And soon he realizes that his brother, whom now is long gone, pre-recorded a message for every day until his 15th birthday.<br/>It's nice. He guesses.</p><p>((based off of synnesai's comic and this lovely fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/459951 )</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a very Happy Birthday to You.

DIRK

It’s your 11th birthday.

The only reason you know that is because it says so on the calendar. The old and yellowing calendar that sits by your bedside with its crinkled pages and scrawling handwriting. You don’t know how long you’ve had it, perhaps for ever, even. But ever since you can remember, the calendar sits on the table by your bed, its pictures now long faded so that only vague dashes of green and yellow remain, giving little clue as to what they once showed. You hoped that it was land. Huge, sprawling masses of land, like the ones you saw in your TV screen, so close to your eyes but too far to touch. You would have studied those pictures for hours, memorizing each detail in such awe. Maybe one day I’d get to see that, you’d think.

So, there it was. Written in sloppy red handwriting. 3rd of December, Dirk’s birthday. There was something underneath, but whoever wrote it didn’t have very much space so you couldn’t make out what it said. The day after, the 4th, there was something else written. Rose’s birthday. You didn’t know who that was.  
You didn’t understand a lot of things, like everything else that was written in the calendar. Why there was something labelled “Christmas” near the end and why the person had written “Party Time!” on the last day of the calendar. And why, on the 13th of April, was there a note that said “Leave Dirk.”? There were a lot of wet splodges on that page, like someone had sprinkled water all over it.  
You remember when you were eight and finally decided to look over all the pages. You poured over every word, the way the handwriting began to scribble at the end of each sentence like they were tired of writing. You taught yourself how to write by copying the notes, making your handwriting look exactly like theirs. You looked at every movie in your collection until you found out what a ‘Birthday was’ and then every year from then on you would go lie on your roof and stare at the stars until you were another year older.

A lot of the time you wondered who the person who had written the notes was. You could only guess it was the man in the photo, the one that stood by the calendar on your bedside table. It showed a man, a fairly young one with shades and platinum blonde hair. He had a smattering of freckles across his nose and he held a bundle in his arms. A red arrow pointed towards the bundle and at the corner of the frame in the same handwriting, a message was scrawled. That’s you, little guy! His smile was beaming and proud. He looked so happy.

 

 

You were thinking about him now, as you sat on the roof. It was late afternoon and the sun was beginning to set on the horizon, casting the sea into a golden-pink light. All around you, on all sides was the glistening water lapping at the stilts of your home. A house, abandoned in the middle of the ocean, raised up on stilts at least twenty metres high. How did you get here?  
Staring at the water, you got the urge like you always did to jump in. There was a bath in the house, so you could only imagine what it would be like in the water. It would feel like it did when you were on the roof, not confined. Free. But you didn’t because you knew if you did you could never get back up again.

You climbed back down into your house and closed the hatch. Happy Birthday to you, Dirk. He’s to 11 years of your lonely life.

 

That night, you’re lying in your bed, flicking through the films you could watch for the billionth time. You’ve practically memorized all the words already, and tonight you really don’t feel like watching anything. You’re about to switch it off and roll over to sleep, when static erupts across the screen, making you jump. In confusion, you hop off your bed and pad to the screen. It’s never done that before?

There’s a few more seconds of static, but eventually an image breaks it’s way through. It’s slightly blurry, like it’s been filmed on a home video tape but you can make out who stands in the frame with ease.  
You have to pause it there. No… no way. That’s not possible. It’s the man, the man from the photo! The hair, the glasses are the same. Here the man doesn’t have the easy-going grin on his face, and it almost looks like some sort of guilt is haunting him. But it’s him.

 

You gulp and press play.

 

“Hello Dirk,” he begins. It’s uncanny how much his voice sounds like yours. “I’m your brother, Dave.”  
You pause it again, eyes darting back to the image on your bedside table. Dave. Your brother. You have a brother! Your brother is the one who wrote all of the messy notes on the calendar, the one that supplied you with a bounty of films and food to last for years to come. The one who left a bunch of mechanical parts in a locked drawer you managed to bust open. The brother who left you… alone.  
You play the tape.

“I’ve programmed the TV to play this right on the night of your 11th birthday, so Happy Birthday! Here’s to 11 years, huh?” He pauses, suddenly less enthusiastic. “Man, I wish I could be there to see you. I bet you’re as good looking as I am now. But… I can’t. And one day you’ll understand, Dirk, but for now… please take my word.”

Why, though? Why are you being left here all alone? In the films everyone has a family, so why don’t you?

“Anyways, from today on you’ll be getting a message from me. Five minutes a day, every day a year, same time every day. No holidays or weekends excluded, you’ll get tired of me for sure.” You doubt that.  
“This must be a lot for you to take in, I get that. So this one will be shorter than the others. But… heh… yeah. You’ve got a brother! Happy Birthday Dirk. I love you.”

You stare at the TV long after it goes black, only looking away when your eyes start to ache. His name is Dave. You have a brother called Dave, and he loves you.  
Looking at the photo, you can see that he could be your brother. You can’t see the colour of his eyes, they’re hidden behind his shades, but if you look hard you can tell that they’re a bright colour… maybe like your orange. His hair is a blonde… like yours and you both have the same freckles on your nose. You both have the same strong jaw and he looks tall, like you… and…

You fall asleep with the picture of your brother still in your hand.


End file.
